


Throckmorton Sign

by MountainKestrel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Doctor Kink, Embarrassed Steve Rogers, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Medical Examination, Medical Jargon, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Omega Steve Rogers, Omega Verse, Orgasm, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Prostate Examinations, Prostate Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23480029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MountainKestrel/pseuds/MountainKestrel
Summary: Steve has been having some very worrisome symptoms, even for someone with as many medical problems as he has.  When he visits the ED, he finally gets some answers and the help he didn't even know he was looking for.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 221





	Throckmorton Sign

**Author's Note:**

> This was in response to the POTS Discord server educating me on medkink. Thanks to everyone who answered all my questions, especially FestiveFerret! Big thanks and hugs to my wonderful cheer readers, LenkaVittoriaElisse (Beetle) and Aria|MyShipSailsHere!! Feel free to reach out to me on Discord server - I'm musicalla#7701 over there.

Steve sat nervously in the emergency department waiting room, trying hard not to fidget. The symptoms had started innocently enough: aching low in his abdomen, some constipation, decreased appetite. He’d first noticed them a week or two ago, but since he had become aware of them, they had slowly been building. The ache had morphed into sharper pain in his pelvis and lower abdomen. The constipation had gone from a one or two day occurrence to more than four, and it was joined by bloating. He felt nauseated at the mere thought of food.

Then the more concerning symptoms had emerged. Fever. Sweats. Weight loss.

When the bleeding started, Steve panicked and went to ED.

The waiting room was nice but impersonal, with chairs grouped in small clusters. The TV in the corner was turned to HGTV, showing an excited young couple looking for their dream house. There were a handful of other people who seemed calm but tired, and the whole tranquil atmosphere was starkly contrasted against his sense of impending dread. He leaned forward in his chair, his fingers twisting where they hung between his knees.

He’d always been sickly - scrawny, asthmatic, quick to tire out and and slow to recover. But in all of his twenty years, he’d never been like this - unable to eat, achy with pain when he moved, even paler than usual. Even his palms felt damp, and he was perpetually cold at baseline.

He could feel the panic rising within him, his heart hammering in his chest and his breath becoming faster and shallower. He was moments away from bolting out of his seat to go throw up somewhere when the nurse called out his name.

“Steve?” Her tone was bored and flat, and she only glanced up briefly from the clipboard when he shot up and stumbled in his rush to get across the waiting room. She led him to a small triage room and maneuvered him into a chair. She attached the blood pressure cuff to his arm and placed a pulse ox onto his finger. The monitor registered his heart rate — fast in the 110s — and saturation, which was normal despite the fact Steve felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. After a long minute, the blood pressure cuff released, his pressure showing 96/43.

“You always run low, honey?” the nurse asked, not unkindly. Steve nodded slowly, unable to form words in his suddenly dry mouth.

She produced a stool from under the desk and rolled it over, taking a seat in front of him. Her demeanor shifted as she took him in. “You’re an omega, right? You don’t have to worry — we’re going to take good care of you, keep you safe if you need it,” she said, her tone softer now. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t feel right,” Steve started, and he went on to explain how his symptoms had gotten worse, especially over the last week. She nodded slowly, taking some notes on her clipboard. When he finished, she smiled at him. 

“I think we’ll be able to get you taken care of,” she said. She then led him out the back door of the triage room, which opened to the ED proper, and into room 21. She helped him out of his clothes into a hospital gown, and Steve had to resist the urge to look away when her eyes roamed over his chest wall, each rib painfully obvious, making sharp right angles with his sternum. Every knob of his spine bumped out from his back, and his hip bones stuck out on each side above his boxers, his stomach dipping in to form a hollow in between them. Once the gown was on, she had him slide his boxers off as well, leaving his clothes neatly folded up on a chair. She left him on the gurney with a cheerful “The doctor will be in to see you in a few minutes.” Then, she put the clipboard on the counter and shut the door. The examination room seemed suddenly, oppressively silent. He shifted uncomfortably, the plastic of the cushion unpleasant against the warm skin of his buttocks, even through the sheet.

Steve was well on his way to fidgeting again when there was a soft knock on the door, which was then promptly opened. The doctor before him was in light blue scrubs and a white coat, dark hair messy and softly curling, like the product had been rubbed out of it earlier that evening. His eyes were friendly, and his mouth had a easy smile, framed by a goatee. He glanced at the clipboard he had grabbed on his way in and added another sheet of paper to it, before replacing it on the countertop by the sink. Steve felt his apprehension ratchet up a few notches.

“I’m Dr. Stark, one of the emergency medicine physicians,” the doctor said by way of introduction. “I see here you’ve been feeling unwell for the last few weeks. Can you tell me what’s been going on?”

Steve sighed, already tired of explaining himself. “A few weeks ago, I noticed I had some cramping in my belly, down low. Like when you have to go to the bathroom?” Dr. Stark nodded slowly, settling onto one of the ubiquitous stools. He gave the impression of having nowhere else he needed to be, nothing else more important for him to be doing at that moment. “I’ve never had pain like it before. And it’s been getting worse. It got much sharper in the last few days. I’ve also been having trouble going to the bathroom — usually I go every day, but my stomach’s been upset and I feel so bloated, even though nothing comes out. I can’t even eat because I feel so sick. The last few days, I’ve been sweaty, and I’m sure I’ve had a fever, even though I don’t have a thermometer at home to take my temperature. I’ve —” he stopped, embarrassed, before continuing, “I’ve also started _bleeding_. From — from below.” Steve felt tears starting to form at the corners of his eyes. He felt like he was just whining, but he was very afraid about what was wrong with him. Would he ever be the same again?

Dr. Stark reached over and placed a cool, comforting hand on his thigh. “Have you ever had anything like this happen before?”

“N-no, sir,” Steve replied, and he hung his head. “Never.”

“Has anyone you know ever had a similar experience? Anyone at home sick?”

Steve shook his head slowly. “I live alone, and I — well, I don’t come into a lot of contact with other people at work. I work at an art school, and I clean and restock the rooms at night so they’re ready for the next day.” He swallowed back the next words — that he really wanted to be a student — but omegas weren’t allowed. It was uncommon enough that he lived alone, but his parents had died, and no one was interested in bonding with someone like him.

Dr. Stark blinked at him for a moment. “I see,” he then said slowly. “I think I know what the problem is. You’re having your first heat.”

Steve just looked at him, confused. “My — first heat?” he echoed. “But I thought you had to be bonded to have your first heat.”

“That’s an extremely traditional view, and not very accurate,” Dr. Stark replied. “The goal of that view was to encourage omegas to bond at a young age, which was not always in their best interest. But omegas can go into heat without being bonded — usually in their early twenties, which makes you, in fact, very normal.”

Steve swallowed. “But if I’m not bonded, what can I do about it? I thought only the omega’s bonded alpha can help an omega through a heat.” He paused, the panic starting to creep in around the edges again. “It’s only getting worse.”

“I’m glad you came, because I can help you through your heat and get you home tonight,” Dr. Stark said, his tone soothing and even. 

Steve felt his cheeks heat at the thought, his feelings starting to settle a little at the suggestion. “How does that work?”

“If you are comfortable with it, I can do a procedure here in this room that will release your pheromones. That, in turn, eases the symptoms of your heat so that it’ll end in the next few days, if not sooner. You can then expect to have your next heat in about six months. At that time, if you’re not bonded, you can either come back here or, if you have a regular doctor, make an appointment with them for the same procedure.”

The mention of releasing pheromones had Steve sitting up a little straighter, and he felt his anxiety start to give way to another strong emotion: arousal. “What, exactly, does the procedure involve?” he found himself asking.

Dr. Stark grabbed the clipboard and shuffled a few papers on it before offering it to Steve. Steve glanced down, noting the header at the top that read **Procedural Consent Form**. The lines for the date, reason for procedure, his doctor’s name, name of the procedure, and risks associated with the procedure had already been filled out with a neat, draftsman print, small but easily legible.

“This is a consent form for this kind of procedure, because it is fairly invasive and rather intimate,” Dr. Stark explained. He rolled the stool alongside the gurney so they could both look at the clipboard at the same time. “The reason I’m recommending this procedure is because you’re in heat,” he said, referencing the second line he’d filled in. “I’m Dr. Tony Stark, and I’ll be performing the procedure this evening. This procedure is called a perineal, pelvic, and rectal examination with release of pheromones, which is just the medical terms for me inspecting area between your legs, including your penis, testicles, and anus. While examining this area, I will stimulate you to have an orgasm. It shouldn’t be painful, but it may be a little uncomfortable, as the pressure can sometimes be a lot if you’ve never gone through a heat before.”

Dr. Stark then pointed to each of the following sections in turn. “You won’t need any anesthesia or pain medication for this. The expected benefits are to release the pheromones associated with your heat, which in turn will get rid of the symptoms you’re having, usually within the next 24 hours but certainly within the next 48. There is a small risk of injury to your anus, about 1 in 5000, but the likelihood of that is less than your chances of being hit by lightening. Options other than having the procedure are to wait out your heat without intervention, although this usually takes about a month to start feeling better and six weeks before you’re back to normal.” He then flipped the form over. “You can have a chaperone present, but that’s entirely up to you. Some omega patients find having someone observing to be stressful to the point of preventing orgasm, while others prefer having someone else in the room, as they are uncomfortable being alone with an alpha during this intimate of an procedure. Which would you prefer?”

“Uh,” Steve managed to say, completely distracted by the thought that this doctor — this surprisingly young, very attractive alpha doctor — was going to help him through his first heat. He was somewhat resigned to the idea that he would likely never bond with someone, at least not unless he put on 100 pounds of muscle or inherited a surprising amount of money. But it had never occurred to him that he would need to seek medical help for his first heat, let alone all of the subsequent ones. “No, thank you, sir. I don’t want a chaperone,” he said quietly. Just the thought of someone else witnessing his inability to bond was enough to make him flush with embarrassment.

The doctor set aside his clipboard to look at Steve. Steve plucked nervously at the folds in his hospital gown, head down, eyes averted. “Steve,” Dr. Stark said softly, “it’s very common to not have someone to help you through your first heat. Or even many of the following ones. It’s one of the most common procedures I do. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

For a moment, Steve imagined getting up and just leaving. Gathering up his clothes and walking out. He’d make his way through the waiting, walk out the sliding doors, and call a Uber-O. But he couldn’t picture what would happen past that. He’d just continue to lose weight? Eventually get sick enough he couldn’t work any longer? Possibly even die as a direct result of his humiliation?

He was stubborn — but even he had to concede that was a little excessive, even for him.

He set his jaw and nodded. “I’d like to undergo the procedure,” he said, hoping he came off as confident.

Dr. Stark watched him, his brown eyes thoughtful, before nodding in return. He picked up the clipboard and handed it back to Steve with a pen. “Signing here says we went through this whole form, I gave you all the information you asked for, and you agree to undergo the procedure. Do you have any questions before you sign?”

Steve took the pen, marked the box that said he didn’t want a chaperone, and signed, shaking his head while he did so. Dr. Stark watched Steve for a moment, and Steve got the impression he was looking something — Hesitation? Discomfort? Uncertainty? He must have been satisfied with what he saw, because he then stood up. “I need to grab a few things and then I’ll be back.” Dr. Stark then stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Steve released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and relaxed back against the gurney. He stared up at the ceiling, and thoughts turned over and over in his head. He was having his first heat. He hadn’t been bonded yet, and he was having his first heat. Dr. Stark seem to imply he would have talked to someone about it, but he didn’t really have anyone he would have discussed such a personal topic with.

The knock on the door came again, and Dr. Stark followed as he had before. He had removed his white coat and had a surgical cap on his head with an eye shield pushed up onto it. In his hands, he carried a pink disposable rectangular bucket of supplies. He rolled the bedside table over and placed the bucket on the table. Steve watched in fascination as he removed the items from the bucket and placed them on the counter: a tube of some kind, a mask, a bottle of sterile water, and three bundles wrapped in blue fabric of some kind, two roughly cube shaped and the other longer and more cylindrical.

He then unwrapped the cylindrical blue bundle onto the bedside table. The fabric opened up to cover the entire table, and gleaming stainless steel instruments lay inside. Dr. Stark laid these carefully in a row, and Steve felt himself start to harden as he inspected each one. One was bullet shaped with a metal outer sleeve. Then a metal speculum and kidney basin. Next were three instruments, each a different size, that all looked like the bullet shaped one if it had been cut in half, hollowed out, and a handle had been attached. He also laid out something that looked like scissors but with loops on the end and no sharp edges, another that was blunt-nosed also without sharp edges, and the biggest pair of tweezers Steve had ever seen.

Dr. Stark then turned and noticed him watching. “Are you curious about what I’ll be using?” he asked, and Steve nodded soundlessly, his mouth suddenly dry. Dr. Stark held up the bullet shaped instrument with the sleeve and said, “This is an anoscope.” He went down the line, naming the speculum, kidney basin, the three similar instruments as Hill Ferguson retractors, ring forceps, needle driver, and Debakey forceps. He smiled gently at the end. He opened the two cube shaped bundles. These revealed a total of ten little white towels with blue tails attached to them, which he told Steve were called laparotomy pads. He emptied the sterile water into the kidney basin. Finally, he dumped clear lube out of the tube onto a corner of the blue wrapping that was now covering the table.

“Any last minute questions?” he asked Steve.

“No, s-sir,” Steve stammered, and he couldn’t decide if he was more anxious, apprehensive — or excited.

Dr. Stark then tied the surgical mask behind his head and neck and pulled the eye shield down onto his face. “Now, nothing should be painful, but you may have some discomfort. If you need me to stop, or slow down, you need to tell me,” he said firmly. His brown eyes remained kind over the mask and through the plastic of the eye shield. “I’ll talk you through everything I’m doing, if that makes you more comfortable.”

“I would appreciate that, sir,” Steve said.

Dr. Stark nodded, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. Steve could image him smiling behind the mask. “All right.” He opened the door to the room and flipped out a red plastic marker that was part of a set with multiple colors hanging over the sign with the room number. He then closed the door and pulled the curtain so that, if the door were opened, no one in the hall could see what was going on in the room.

He laid the head of the gurney down and pulled out the stirrups from the end of the bed. “I need you to move down until your butt is right on the edge,” he instructed. Steve swallowed hard and scooted down. He stopped when his knees were completely bent, toes hanging off. Dr. Stark gently positioned one foot then the other into the stirrups. Steve stared up at the ceiling, his hands on his chest, and felt very exposed. He kept his knees together and worked to control his breathing, which was quickly becoming erratic. A little panicky, he wondered if he should have taken off his socks.

Dr. Stark grabbed a pair of gloves from a box on the wall then moved out of Steve’s line of sight. Steve heard the wheels from the stool then from the bedside table as Dr. Stark positioned them. “All right, Steve, you’re doing great. I just need you to slide down a few more centimeters.” Steve lifted his head up to see the doctor’s head appear above his knees, and Dr. Stark’s gloved hands touched his thighs, applying pressure until he was satisfied with where Steve was on the gurney.

“Can you relax your knees outward for me?” the doctor then asked. Steve took a deep breath then followed the request. “Good. First, I’m going to do an exam to make sure everything is how it’s supposed to be. Then I’ll move on to the procedure. Like I said before — you can stop me at any time if you’re uncomfortable or if you have questions. I’ll talk you through everything I’m doing unless you ask me to stop.”

Steve nodded again and then put his head back on the pillow. He closed his eyes and tried to take some slow, deep breaths. “You’re going to feel my hands on your penis and then your testicles. I’m just looking for lumps or anything out of the ordinary.”

He felt Dr. Stark lift his penis up, presumably looking underneath, then squeeze along its length. He could feel himself stir at the contact, and his cheeks warmed as he began to harden. The hands then moved to his testicles, gently squeezing one and then the other, making their way along the spermatic cord to the top of each testicle. His scrotum got the same treatment, the skin gently pressed between warm, gloved fingers. Steve put more of his weight into his feet, shifting his butt a little, as arousal flooded up his into groin and belly.

Dr. Stark gave a soft chuckle at that. “Stay still if you can, but I know it’s hard. Do your best not to make any sudden moves, though. And try not to go very far. I haven’t had anyone fall off the gurney yet, but I’d hate for you to be my first. It generates a lot of paperwork for me.”

The wheels on the stool squeaked softly, and Dr. Stark appeared back in Steve’s view. “Next is what’s called a bimanual exam. I’ll be performing a rectal exam and then pressing on your belly from the outside to make sure there’s nothing between the two that shouldn’t be there. A little bit of cold lube for this,” he added.

Steve felt a soft brush against one of his buttocks, a warning he supposed. He hissed quietly as the cold jelly came in contact with his anus. Then, a finger was pressed in, and Steve gasped. “Just checking your prostate for anything unusual,” Dr. Stark said absently. He was staring off above Steve’s head, and Steve could imagine him visualizing what he was feeling deep inside Steve’s body. Suddenly, he felt a lot of pressure on the front part of his rectum, and the warmth in his belly became fiery, licking up the inside of his pelvis. He resisted jerking from the sudden, overwhelming sensation, but only just barely. Steve panted for a moment, twisting his fingers together on his chest, digging them into the fabric of his gown.

“I’m going to add a second finger now,” the doctor said, and Steve felt the muscles of his anus stretch to accommodate the increased pressure. It burned for a moment and was uncomfortable for a few more, but after that Steve found the fullness tolerable. “One last finger,” Dr. Stark said, after Steve’s breathing had returned to normal. The sensation was the same — pressure, then burning, and then fullness. Dr. Stark then pushed down on his lower abdomen, and Steve felt increased pressure and a little discomfort with that.

“Everything normal,” Dr. Stark then said, removing his outside hand. “Now that you’re nice and stretched out, I’m going to use the Hill Fergusons to remove any stool that might be in there. They’re a little cold,” he warned. Steve heard a soft clink, and then Dr. Stark removed his fingers. He felt pressure again and then sudden release as the Hill Ferguson was inserted. Dr. Stark then pressed it upwards. He removed it and repeated this process three more times, each time pushing a different direction.

“Next up is the anoscope. I’ll use it to take a look inside. That’ll be the end of the exam part, and then I’ll move on the procedure.” Again there was a soft clink, then cold lube and a lot of pressure. Steve sucked in a sharp breath at this. The stretch and burn was much worse, but his body responded to it much more profoundly. His penis became heavier on his stomach, and he could feel the end of it become damp with precome. He had to resist the urge to touch himself.

There was the slide of metal against metal, and he felt Dr. Stark rotate the anoscope first one direction and then another. “Everything still looking completely normal,” he said. He then appeared between Steve’s legs. “Still doing okay? Need me to give you a break?” he asked gently.

“N-n-no, sir,” Steve answered, a little chagrined at how unsteady his voice was.

“All right, no issues on your exam,” Dr. Stark said. “We’ll get you taken care of now. The combination of penile and prostate stimulation culminating in orgasm is the goal, because that’s what releases your pheromones. If you don’t like something, or it’s uncomfortable, or it hurts, I need you to tell me. You can also ask me to stop at any point. Okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve replied, a little more steadily.

“All right, Steve. I’m going to insert the anoscope again, but only the inner portion.” The metal was still cool against his skin, but the burn had improved. This time, Dr. Stark angled it up towards his prostate. There was a small ridge on the inner portion of the anoscope that Steve hadn’t noticed before, and Dr. Stark twisted the handle, causing the ridge to sweep back and forth over his prostate. The pressure began to build again, and Steve had to move his hands to his sides to dig his fingers into the padding of the gurney.

His body seemed to know what it wanted, and he made small thrusting movements with his hips, trying to apply more pressure to his prostate with the ridge on the anoscope. Responding to him, Dr. Stark put his hand back on Steve’s lower abdomen as well as over his penis, pushing down on both over where the anoscope was deep inside him. This time, there was no discomfort. Steve felt heat wash over him, seeming to start from the tip of his penis where Dr. Stark was pressing it into his belly, flowing through into his belly, and washing up onto his chest. The gown was in the way, but he knew if he could see his skin it would be blotchy and red from the heat, a blush that literally went all the way down.

His testicles drew in tight to his body, and his scrotum felt hard from his arousal, a tightness that extended into the base of his penis. He continued to thrust with his pelvis, trying to keep the movements smaller based on the doctor’s earlier warning. “That’s good, you’re doing great,” Dr. Stark then said, as though he’d heard Steve’s thoughts.

Steve’s breath was back to coming in short little bursts, and he tucked his hands behind the small of his back to keep from trying to either help or grab onto the doctor’s wrists. Dr. Stark then shifted the hand on Steve’s stomach. First, he brushed it up higher onto his abdomen, and a ripple of goosebumps radiated out from the touch. Steve was hyper sensitive now, and he shivered at the contact, even through gloves. Then Dr. Stark took some of the lube from the bedside table and began to stroke Steve’s penis.

He started slowly, with long strokes from tip to base, before working into shorter, faster movements. Steve felt a groan pulled from his lungs, and distantly he thought that he ought to feel more self-conscious. On the other hand, he could have sworn that Dr. Stark’s eyes were crinkling around the edges again. Dr. Stark then removed the anoscope and inserted three of his fingers. He stroked up into Steve’s prostate and pressed his two hands together as much as he could.

The pressure tipped Steve over the edge, and he came hard enough that he heard roaring in his ears. The roaring gave way to a soft buzz, like he’d heard a sudden loud noise, and Steve wondered if he’d cried out when he came. He trembled, goosebumps still over his chest, arms, and thighs, and almost immediately he felt better. The sensation was like a fever breaking, except instead of being covered in sweat, he had come all over his abdomen. His gown was also sticky and wet. He now felt warm and comfortable in his own skin, instead of the cold, clammy feeling he’d come in with.

“Feeling better?” Dr. Stark asked. Steve nodded, unable to talk, as he heaved deep breaths after his orgasm. “Good,” the doctor replied, and he sounded very pleased. He helped Steve to move back up the gurney and put away the stirrups.

Dr. Stark gathered up his instruments and put them in the bucket. He left the laparotomy pads and sterile water, saying “Use this to get cleaned up. There are more towels in the cabinet if you need them. Just throw everything into the linen hamper when you’re done. Take your time — you can have this room as long as you need. Just open the door when your done.”

Steve laid on the gurney, taking a long time to get his breathing back under control. He obviously had gotten himself off before, but this was nothing like that. He could still feel the pressure and stretch of Dr. Stark’s hand within him, the release both from the orgasm and his pheromones. He felt languid and soft, blurry at the edges. Part of him wished he could just sleep here, near Dr. Stark, until he felt completely back to normal.

Steve then shook his head, trying to dislodge those thoughts. Of course, that was the pheromones talking. He cleaned himself up slowly, trying not to think of the empty apartment waiting for him, another long, quiet, lonely evening with nothing — no one — to look forward to once he got home. He got dressed and then opened the door.

A few minutes later, his nurse appeared. “You look better already, honey,” she said to him, a wide smile on her face. “I have your discharge paperwork for you. Ready to go?”

Steve nodded. “Could you —“ He hesitated, feeling as though the request that had sprung to mind was on the edge of inappropriate. But the nurse tipped her head to the side, expectant. “Will you just thank Dr. Stark for me?”

She winked. “Of course. He’s one of our best doctors, my favorite to work with,” she answered.

Then he found himself back in the waiting room, alone. It was empty now, dark and quiet in the stillness that only seemed to exist after midnight. He glanced back at the closed double doors, leading back into the ED, before sighing and turning away.

He wondered if there was a way to find out, in six months, when Dr. Stark was working again.


End file.
